The Top Five Worst Werewolf Book Covers Ever
by Angela Quinton
May. 12, 2009
Werewolf News is pleased to present this special report from jujitsu / River City Ransom sensation Mike Roukas.
There is a fine line between the intentional retardedness of Teen Wolf and the unwitting ineptitude of the JarJar Binks-era Star Wars movies. I regret to say that when it comes to making werewolf-related media, it’s very easy to cross that line and blast into uncharted dimensions of stupidity. The following are what I believe to be the top five aesthetic blunders in the wide, wide world of werewolf book covers. Please keep in mind that the cringe-inducing ineptitude of these covers doesn’t necessarily reflect the writing inside them, but it probably does.
This cover makes the list by virtue of the fact that it suggests hot lycanthropic action but provides a cutout of a J. Crew catalog instead. With a title like “My Werewolf Lover,” you’d think that the guy would have a beastly glow in his eye or the hint of a fang over one lip. Not so here. Sorry, all you lonely upper middle class cubicle-dwelling women.
This “werewolf” looks like he’s seductively whispering: “Honey, you think you can finish those TPS reports real quick before bed? That would really make me grrrrowl.”
This little number makes the list because its raw BORINGNESS helps it transcend any limits it could have reached through the Photoshopping of wolf heads onto the torsos of airbrushed bodybuilders. But since you can’t judge a book by its cov . . . eh, fuck that. This thing probably reads like:
It was a splendid evening at 322A Humberdale St., and Professor Price and I decided to have a lovely tête-à-tête after enjoying some splendid crumpets and sodomy. Suddenly I noticed something on the good professor’s leg as he adjusted his trousers. “My dear man!” I ejaculated, “Your shanks! What has happened!” The good Professor looked down to the injury I had just drawn to light, and he noted the apparent laceration of the cloth and skin there. “Oh dear man, tis a trifle!” he laughed jovially. “I was bitten yesterday by a rather . . . large dog, but since then, the wound has almost completely healed. On an unrelated note, I think I feel the itch to go out on this lovely full-moon night and order a good raw steak after running for five miles. Won’t you be a chap and watch the laboratory for me? Perhaps you can make inquiries as to why my Furaffinity.net account closed down just because I felt the need yesterday to fave 5,000+ pictures of dog-people banging Pokemon characters?”
Damn. I’m used to clichéd bullshit coming from Dean Koontz, but he’s usually better at hiding his stupidity than this. If this is a werewolf novel, then why do the people on the cover look like something from a Kubric movie about the offspring of Sesame Street characters and The Terminator? Looks like James Paterson has some competition.
Yo, check it check it check it,
It goes a’ one, two, a one-two-three-four
Well I be Kid Caramel and I’m on tha’ case,
I be huntin’ down werewolves like they a big disgrace
‘Cause their coats be all smelly and you know my girl Kelly
Can shake her booty on the dance floor like it’s all made of jelly
And there ain’t no werewolf who can step up to me
Because I got the rhymes to set your mind and your body free,
My silva’ bullet lyrics makes this club tha’ place to be!
There are lots of bad book and dvd covers out there, but it takes a special breed of idiocy to make me question the sanity of the Hebrew God. Just when I feel settled with an answer as to how a loving God could let bad things happen to good people, the solidity of my theological introspection is blasted to pieces by the Almighty’s decree to his angel of death: “Go, stretch forth thy hand over the modern cesspool of Photoshop, and smite Mr. Roukas’s stupidity-tolerance with Tardstrike Lvl.65.”
Sometimes I can escape that strange cringe-factor that covers such as this impose upon me, but in order to do this, I have to scroll down quickly after first glimpsing such retardedness on my computer screen. However, God then has his revenge by showing me this unintentionally self-parodying amazon.com author bio: “Dragan Vujic is a writer. This is his 8th book on werewolves. In his spare time, Dragan enjoys a variety of outdoor activities. He is divorced and enjoys bachelorhood. Dragan may be contacted at: firstname.lastname@example.org.”
Djagan Vujic is divorced and is ENJOYING bachelorhood. Take that, all you divorce-filing bitches who can’t come to grips with the lycanthropy of your husbands!
BONUS STAGE!!! Crunk-Swagga’ GQ Sex-Symbol Wolfman Of Hoboken: Dark Ninjastorm Rising (Book #1. In The Lycanthropic Breakdance Strikeforce Trilogy).
Yes, I designed this cover with the intention of making something stupid enough to trump all of the covers listed thus far. However, it seems I’ve got the Midas touch since everything I lay my hands on turns to pure awesome. I’m sure all ninja crime syndicates are wetting their pants at the thought of my flying armbar. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to rendezvous with Special Agent Red Riding Hood at Generic Casino.
Mike Roukas is a rabble-rouser with no tolerance for poorly executed werewolf shenanigans. He publishes his incindiary thoughts at jjmike.com, although ninjas have disabled it at the moment.